We had the first frost in Memphis this morning. It’s as close as we usually get to snow. It’s naught but a thin layer of white, but at least we have some sign of winter.
I know that you in the northeast are being blasted with snow, a little too much snow, but down here we yearn for it.
Still my little layer of frost reminds me that Christmas is right around the corner.
Christmas never creeps up. It comes faster and faster every year, crashing down on me at deadline time. Always at deadline time.
I look at the calendar, and it’s a month away. Plenty of time, I think, and then it’s here faster than the time it takes me to blink. And now it’s only a week away. Doesn’t seem possible.
I love Christmas. Always have. Always will. I usually start the preparation in September with the first of the many craft fairs in the south. Probably eighty percent of my gifts come from those fairs. There is always something unique and absolutely perfect for people on my list.
Aha, I traditionally think. Christmas will be easy this year. Gifts are mostly done, and I’ll take my time doing everything else.
And then it’s here! Faster than I thought. Parcels to be sent, but then I forgot something for that particular person. And now as I look at my cache of craft fair booty, it doesn’t look as great as when I purchased most of the items. Maybe something else . . .
Decorations? Where did I put them last year? Why can’t I find my collection of the minature Santas in my shamefully crowded attic. The tree? Going to pick it up in my dad’s big car. According to plan, I go out outside and the car’s battery is dead. Six hours later, the battery is replaced but some kind of cluster exploded inside the dash, and the part is obsolete. Frantically call friend to help out. She arrives, but my favorite tree lot is closed and we have to search for another.
So much for best laid plans.
I finish decorating inside about ten minutes before a party for my romance writers chapter. Then the party is over, and the smell of pine and cinnamon still wafts hover the house. Christmas music, particularly that from Celtic Women, follow me from room to room. Pounds and pounds of pecans are toasting in butter in the oven. They go in tins to be sent to special friends. They have to be in the mail today.
And still so much to do. I’m late with cards but that’s typical. My one brightly lit angel outside needs some companions. She looks lonely, and I have no time to find some. I did the shopping for myself, but now I have to do it for my bed-ridden Mom.
Is Christmas really only days away? How did that happen?
But since I’m fitting Christmas in-between writing fifteen pages (hopefully more) a day, I’m going to ask you to do most of the blog work this time. And a grateful me will send one of my westerns to two of those who reply.
What is your favorite thing about Christmas? Color? Music? Finding the right gift? Or the smiles and good will that seem to greet you everywhere?
What is your favorite Christmas song?
And how do you do your Christmas shopping? Months ahead? Weeks ahead? Days ahead? Christmas Eve?
In the meantime, let me wish you all a very lovely and happy holiday season.